A Heart in Jeopardy (19 page)

"Leona, despite our continual failure to understand each other properly, I do know one thing. You're no thief!"

"Oh, Nigel, you do love me!" she said, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him with all her strength.

"Of course, I do. Haven't I said so before? Hey—easy, Leona, you're choking me!. .. What does this have to do with the jewels? How do you even know about them?"

She rocked back on her heels and beamed at him. "Because dearest love of my heart, I do have them!"

"But not for long," said a high voice, laughing wildly.

Leona spun around, falling against the portmanteau. She put her hand on it to steady herself as she gaped at the two people standing not fifteen feet away brandishing pistols in their direction.

It was Sarah Jewitt and Howard North.

Deveraux growled low in his throat and gathered himself to leap to his feet.

"Not so fast. You stay right where you are," warned Howard North, drawing back the hammer of his pistol. It clicked ominously and Sarah Jewitt laughed again, high color on her thin, pinched face.

Deveraux stilled, his eyes narrowed to thin slits as he visibly eased the tension in his muscles. Leona raised her other hand to her chest in the region of her heart, her eyes wide with fear.

"So," Deveraux drawled laconically, "Jewitt is our unknown confederate. We knew there had to be one."

Jewitt laughed, the sound shrill and piercing and edged with mad frenzy. She handed her pistol to North and stepped closer, her hands on her hips. She leaned toward him, her eyes glittering and over-bright. "Confederate!" she spat "Stupid fool! I am the mastermind. I, Sarah Jewitt Northythe!"

"The surveyor's daughter," breathed Leona.

Jewitt's eyes slid to Leona. "They tell you about me? How his brother led me on until I would have done anything for him. Killed for him, if he'd asked! And still he rejected me. I wasn't good enough to be a countess!"

"Emily Fennimore's engagement to my brother was a long-standing one that only wanted the announcement to make it official."

Jewitt glared at him, her face twisting into a horrible grotesque masque of hate. "No, no! That's not true! No, he wanted me, I know he did." She paused, staring blankly into the bare tree branches. "But he was weak and allowed his father to separate us."

Deveraux raised an eyebrow. "How can it be both ways? First you say he deliberately led you on, now you say he wanted you but was too weak a person to fight for his own happiness."

"Yes!... No-oo.... Yes!" A glassy look came into her eyes, her expression shattered, then her brow furrowed. "Just shut up!"

"An excellent suggestion, my pet," North said, obviously as well aware as Leona and Deveraux of how closely Sarah Jewitt teetered on the brink between sanity and madness. "Enough talk. I have spent too much time on this affair. I've told you, Sally, it's time we took our reward." He licked his lips. "The jewels, Miss Leonard." He waved his gun at the portmanteau.

Leona visibly flinched and trembled. "The jewels! Oh, yes, you mean the tiara, the necklace, and the earrings. I- I have them right here," she said, clutching the portmanteau to her chest.

Silently Deveraux groaned as he slid Leona a glance. That flustered mien was alien to her personality. Now what was she planning? The woman was a menace. A cold fear gripped him, and he ground his teeth in frustration. Not only must he watch Jewitt and North, but he must also watch Leona to protect her from herself!

Leona's shaking fingers fumbled over the latch. She smiled timidly at North, then ducked her head, color surging to her cheeks. Deveraux wanted to throttle her. She was acting Like a damned coquette!

"I-I found them when I reached Rose Cottage. I pulled out my dressing gown and a glittering cascade came out with it! Of course, I had to come straight back to Castle Marin. I couldn't keep them!"

"Just as we planned, eh, Harry?" Sarah Jewitt crowed to Howard North. "Only we didn't expect to meet you so close to your home. Figured maybe you'd found them and thought to keep them for yourself!"

"No. Oh, no!" Leona said nervously.

Under Jewitt's avid gaze she pulled a dressing gown out of the case and shook it, but no jewelry fell out She frowned heavily. "Must have fallen to the bottom," she muttered.

"Come on, come on! Hurry it up there! It'll rain soon, and I've no inclination to be stuck out in this weather."

"Yes, yes, of course," Leona responded breathlessly. She began carelessly dragging out article after article of clothing. Deveraux was startled to see a lace-edged chemise land on the ground. Jewitt and North eyed it too. Deveraux's eyes flickered quickly back to Leona. He was barely in time to see her shove an item down under her voluminous cloak before she dove her hand back into the portmanteau. The object was not gem-studded, and Deveraux's consternation grew. What was the sweet vixen up to?

"They're not here!" Leona turned the portmanteau over, shaking it over the ground. Nothing more fell out

"What?" shrieked Sarah Jewitt.

Leona leaned forward, scattering her bits of muslin as she searched beneath them. "The jewels are not here! Wait! I did leave the portmanteau on a bench in the coffee room of the Golden Goose while I went to talk to Mr. Tubbs." She looked up at them, her eyes wide. "Do you think?..." she trailed off suggestively.

Deveraux didn't believe a word of it but the two troublemakers didn't know Leona Leonard like he did! He leaned back against the tree and started to laugh.

"No!" screamed Jewitt, her eyes wild. Her hands curved like talons as she approached Leona. "Liar! Bitch! What have you done with them?"

Deveraux tensed, ready to leap forward, but North was before him. He snagged Jewitt's arm, pulling her off balance. She fell against him. "Don't be a fool. Forget the jewels. This enterprise has been a disaster from beginning to end," he muttered on a low growl.

"Forget the jewels?"

"Yes, damn it! I never was overly keen on them anyway. They may be worth a king's ransom, but they'd be difficult to fence. What we have is better and more in line with our original plans. We'll hold the two of them for ransom. Without Deveraux's leadership the household will shortly be in disarray. They'll be only too ready to hand over the flimsies."

Jewitt nodded, the avid look back in her eyes. "That has merit But why must we keep her? She's not worth anything."

"After watching that touching little scene when we came upon them, I say we use her as surety for his good behavior," North suggested with a leer.

Noting his expression, Deveraux was certain that was not the only use he intended for her. He felt a black rage consume him. Grimly he struggled to keep his face neutral as Jewitt looked from one to the other. "Excellent excellent. The fools. You are such a clever one, Harry. Where do we take them?"

North laughed. ‘To Miss Leonard's cottage, of course. It's remote, and the villagers all believe her at Castle Marin. Up, you two." He waved his pistol at them. "And where is your horse, Miss Leonard?"

"She went lame about a mile down the road." She struggled to her feet her arms hidden under her cloak.

"Tsk, tsk. Now isn't that too bad. I guess you'll just have to walk. ... Now that I think of it, that's a good idea for both of you. Less likely to try and do something foolish, like escape." He waved the pistol at them, hurrying them before him.

The clouds were growing denser, grayer, and the wind had picked up, rattling the bare branches, whistling through the bushes, and whipping at the comers of Leona's cloak. She held it tightly about her. She and Deveraux watched impassively as North mounted Nuit, settling into the saddle with a satisfied smile on his face. The horse sidled a moment under the unfamiliar weight but settled down quickly. Briefly Deveraux considered it unfortunate that Nuit was not a one-rider horse.

North, with Jewitt's pistol tucked safely in his waistband, held his pistol easily on both of them as he waited for Jewitt to retrieve their horses. He did not, they noticed, help her to mount. By her movements they could tell she was an uncertain rider, but determination forged her will. That determination coupled with her madness made her the more dangerous of the two. Deveraux was thankful she'd handed her pistol to North. Her uncertain temper could spell disaster for Leona and him. He glanced over at Leona. Her face was impassive. Neither fear nor anger resided there. It was an expression that made him very, very nervous.

"We'll go across country," North said. "No sense meeting any locals, eh?" He waved his pistol at them, indicating that they should go before him. Leona turned toward a nearby field. North laughed. "No, no. Not that way, Miss Leonard. I ain't no flat. That'll take us by the good squire's property. I scouted this country well before we hired that drafty old pile of yours. I'll have none of your tricks. We'll cut across this way."

Leona turned in the direction he pointed, trying desperately to hide an incipient smile. Mounting excitement gripped her. Heading toward the squire's was drawing a bow at a chance. That it failed did not perturb her. She had more than one bow in her quiver, though she doubted North or Jewitt would think so. So much the better. They were not overly clever. They were a methodical pair. Any sudden deviation threw them into a tizzy. Well, as that was the case, she would just have to ensure that she kept them in a tizzy, she thought jauntily.

Only one small disquieting thought nagged at her mind. Jewitt was nearly beyond rational thought. Keeping her upended could have unhealthy effects.

Leona glanced at Jewitt. Then the wind whipped her hair into her eyes, obscuring her vision. She dare not let go of the cloak to push it aside. She gathered her cloak up higher to facilitate walking. Her other hand, hidden beneath the cloak, was wrapped reassuringly around the butt of Mr. Tubb's pocket pistol. She set off purposefully, her mind alert to all possibilities for escape.

Watching her, Deveraux groaned silently and set off after her, measuring his pace to hers.

It was the cold, drenching rain that began half an hour later—worse than December's sleet—that was Leona's undoing. Her pace slowed as her spirits flagged. The numbing cold rain sapped her strength, and her wet wool cloak and riding habit soon weighed her down. Moving became a struggle. Rivulets flowed from the brim of her dainty riding hat down her face, stinging her chapped cheeks. Her hands froze in their rigid positions around the butt of the pistol and the folds of her cloak. She sneezed, and her thoughts shifted from escape to attaining her dry cottage.

The steady gray rain obscured visibility and mired the fields they crossed. Leona slipped on the slick winter-browned grass, falling to her knees. Deveraux leaped forward to help her rise. Her left hand let go the cloak as she instinctively-grabbed on to his arm. He caught a quick glimpse of a pistol clutched in her right hand, her knuckles nearly white about the butt. His eyes flared once, then resumed their narrowed expression.

He pulled her cloak tightly about her, gathering it up to be grabbed by her hand again. She threw him a grateful glance as her numb fingers closed around the material.

He studied her face. Her pallor was deathly pale save for the harlequinesque bright red patches on her cheeks. Her eyes appeared more sunken than normal, the skin around them gray. She was tiring, unused to physical exertion under these conditions. He admired her quiet fortitude. Many officers during the rugged peninsular campaigns did nothing but complain! Leona was stoically silent.

With a grim expression on his face, he put his arm around her to help her up the steep slope. Behind them Jewitt and North snickered. Deveraux didn't care, his mind turning over the knowledge of Leona's little gun. He had no doubt his love was bold enough to use it. The problem was he doubted her ability to choose her time wisely owing to her weakening state. He needed to counsel patience. But how to communicate that?

"How much farther, Miss Leonard?" He kept his voice loud so North and Jewitt would have no cause for suspicion.

She twitched under his hand, startled to hear his voice. "Another mile, maybe two. It's much closer cross-country like this, but I'm not certain by how much."

"Fie on you, Miss Leonard," North said with a harsh, mocking laugh. He rode closer. "I understood you to be managing your brother's property. Surely, if you were a good manager, you'd know Lion's Gate's property boundaries!" The wet saddle leather squeaked as he stood up in his stirrups and looked ahead. "I make them to be just over this ridge and down the other side to the copse of trees that border this field. What do you say to that, Miss Leonard?"

"No doubt you're right. I'm too tired to say anything."

"Oh! Did you hear that, Sally? Says she's too tired. ... I know just the remedy for that. A nice run down the hill."

"That's enough, North," Deveraux snapped. "She's near exhaustion and fainting from the cold."

"Ooo-oo, listen to the lover defend his lady," cackled Jewitt. "Just like his brother should have done," she ended morosely.

"Stubble it, Sal," North said harshly.

She made a face at him, then shrugged.

Deveraux squeezed Leona's right arm just below the shoulder. "Patience, my dear," he said distinctly.

She tilted her head and blinked, looking at him owlishly. He squeezed her arm again. She was about to protest when she realized he was signaling to her. What was he saying? Something about patience? She shook her head, her brow furrowing.

Deveraux swore and didn't attempt any further conversation until he got her past a particularly rocky outcrop and a small rabbit snare with a rabbit caught, staring at them with a soft brown eye.

North grunted in satisfaction and told them to wait while he dismounted and removed it from the trap. "Dinner," he said succinctly.

Leona sagged at the mere mention of food. She hadn't eaten all day. Deveraux caught her, his arm more closely around her as he supported her weight. He pressed her right arm in close to her body, bending it so the pistol rested against her stomach. "Patience," he said again.

She nodded as his meaning percolated into her tired brain. Truthfully, she was too tired to try anything. Holding the pistol became habit, her fingers too numb to let go even if she wanted to. She remembered her earlier bravado with wry disgust. She was always cocksure of herself, wanting to stand alone and damn the world. Deveraux was right. Sometimes one had to let go and be able to share burdens or let others carry them completely. It was not weakness to know one's limitations. It was strength. She'd never been one to acknowledge personal limitations. She was feeling that sorely now. Calling herself every kind of fool, she gathered her diminishing strength to press on a bit longer.